


At Morning's Light

by AccioRavenclaw



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Lazy Mornings, Morning Cuddles, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioRavenclaw/pseuds/AccioRavenclaw
Summary: Lazy mornings are all too rare for Inquisitor Issala Adaar. Sera decides that sometimes you just need to make them happen.





	At Morning's Light

Issala grumbles into the pillow and pulls the blanket over her shoulder, baring Sera’s back-end to the cold. The rogue, only just stirring from the deep fog of dreams, grumbles her own protests and cuddles closer; attempting to win back some of the thick cover from Issala’s tightly fisted grip.

_What does she need the blankets for?_ The rogue thinks amid the heavy fog of sleep. _By Andraste’s holy ashen ass, she’s is a fire mage._

However the effort proves fruitless, thus she settles for spooning closer. Slipping her arm over the still sleeping Qunari's waist and pulling herself in. At least her Lady radiates heat like a furnace. Magic in her blood or – nope: the rogue stops her own trail of thought. Too early to be thinking about weird magic shite this early in the morning.

“Sera,” Issala mumbles beside her.

The rogue lets out a small whine in the back of her throat, till finally her voice cooperates. “Yeah love?” She does not want to be awake: firm in her belief that it is still far too early to actually be awake. Only acceptable excuse is to set up a good prank, but she can't do that in the campsite. Thus, no point.

“Sera, we should get up.” Issala says, voice a low groggy grumble as she gives a light tug to the arm draped around her middle. Stirs something in her insides, low in her stomach. Stupid butterflies.

“No,” Sera mutters against her back. She tightens her hold just slightly, and buries her face at the base of her Lady’s shoulder blades.

Issala shifts beside her. Her movements, no matter how groggy, are still careful and mindful of the horns that curve upward at the back of her head. It would ruin the start of a perfectly good day to impale them upon her lover in the grogginess of the morning.

“The sun’s up though.” Issala replies and Sera can hear the tones of leadership slipping into her voice. Slipping back into her role of Inquisitor and it’s just not fair. Far too early for her to just jump right back into it.

“So?” Sera grumbles, punctuating the sentence with a long, wide-mouthed yawn. Shifts a bit closer, her arm around Issala’s middle pulling her flush against her skin.

"The others are probably awake."

"So what if they wake up at the crack of dawn. Doesn't mean we need to be up with them." She keeps her eyes firmly shut against the low sunlight. Tries to ignore the glare on the backs of her eyelids, but it’s a futile effort.

“We need to pull camp if we want to make it to the Emerald Graves. It’s a long hike.”

“Too many trees and trees are stupid. Full of elfy shite that place is.” She mumbles, nuzzling into the curve of Issala’s neck.

Issala chuckles; and then her breath shifts when Sera’s lips tease at her skin. “Sera,” the name passes her lips in a soft moan. Some cross between a lighthearted warning and something _almost_ playful.

It's the almost that matters. “Yes love?” She replies innocently before pressing another soft kiss against her skin.

“We really need to head out as early as possible. Cover as much ground as we can before nightfall hits us, again.”

“It’s cold out.” She protests.

“It’s winter and we're barely out of the Frostback's shadow.” Issala reasons. She takes a moment to wiggle herself mostly free of her grip – which the rogue frowns openly at – and pushes herself up into a sitting position within the bed, letting the blanket drape loosely around them where she had pulled it.

Sera is definitely awake and there is no point fighting it any longer, as she opens her eyes. Issala had moved so that her hips were now resting at Sera’s chest; looking up, she was greeted with a perfect view of her form bathed in the soft red light of dawn bleeding through the tent.

“No need to rush. Not like the forest is going anywhere." Sera says, reaching up to run fingers over her lover’s exposed skin. Her fingertips trailing lightly over well known paths as they trace their way past muscle to the soft valley of her breasts. She even leaned up from the warmth of the blankets to begin trailing her lips toward her collar bone. "Perhaps we should have ourselves a proper warming, yeah?”

The memory of the previous night is at the front of her mind. “Sera,” Issala moans again, gives a light squirm as her ankles twitch against where Sera's legs have resettled. Like she can't decide if she wants to enjoy the pleasures of a slow morning or cooperate with the things expected of her as leader: as Herald and Inquisitor.

But the fingers of her unmarked hand are starting to bury their way into her hair, and sweet Maker if that doesn't feel good. Really gets the butterflies fluttering.

_Too stuffy_ , Sera thinks, knowing just what her Inquisitor needs to come back down to her level.

“Please stay with me for a while longer, yeah?” She asks, knowing that her lover will probably choose being reasonable and follow expectation if she does not intervene and make the decision herself. She is a good influence that way; good for balancing between the larger image of the Herald and still just being like any other people.

A request is all it takes. When she agrees, verbalizes her consent, Sera moves her full attention to Issala with a soft, newly awakened energy. Butterflies stirring into something quicker. _Hotter_. She trails kisses over her skin as she works her way down from her Lady's collarbone. Lingers around cleavage, peppers her navel, and then reaches her goal.

They twist and tangle. Heat and short breaths. Occasional sighs and shivers. 

Together they sink back into the sheets once finished. Sera runs her fingers through the ink black hair of her lover, the butterflies finally sated.

Mornings in Skyhold are a whirlwind. Her Inquisitor spends the day - from morning's first light to the last - jumping from one task to the next: shaking hands with this noble and that stuffy lord from where ever as Josephine runs introduction and damage control. But mornings on the road can be busy too, leading from one place to the next, on this mission and fulfilling such-and-such a task. 

Slow mornings like this, with herself relaxed and snug against her lover - not just the Herald or Inquisitor or whatever title the world wants to stick her with, these are the mornings that make the stuffiness of it all so worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been gathering dust in my draft folder for ages now and I decided it was time to finally finish it up. Hope I captured Sera's voice well enough, I always find her a bit of a challenge. Anyway, I'm still pretty new at light romance stuff, so I hope it turned out well!


End file.
